Blood Silver Saint Son: Tang San!

Buzz—

Blood-red Divine Sense erupted without restraint, distorting the air until it trembled.

Dark-red Blue Silver Grass sprang from Tang San's left palm, its blades bristling with barbs and trailing wisps of bloodlust. In his right hand, he gripped an ancient, heavy Clear Sky Hammer. Bloodthirsty energy surged around its head, and a faint killing intent spilled out.

He swept a cold gaze over the soldiers, who stood frozen with fear, and spoke through clenched teeth, each word thick with savagery. "Now it's your turn. To! Die!"

"No, no! An Evil Soul Master! You're an Evil Soul Master!" The soldier's calves shook, his teeth chattered, and he could barely hold his blade. "Run! It's an Evil Soul Master!"

"Trying to run? Too late."

Tang San snorted and struck with an open palm. Blood-red Divine Sense swept through the soldiers. They had no time to scream before they burst into clouds of blood, leaving not even a scrap behind.

The sight should have been satisfying, but Tang San's heart bled.

His Origin Divine Sense had already been running low. After the cost of forcibly awakening his Twin Martial Souls, it had shrunk to the size of a pigeon's egg—less than a tenth of what it had been.

"Damn it! Damn it all!" He hurriedly withdrew his Martial Souls and Divine Sense. His face went deathly pale, and he staggered two steps.

What kind of luck was this? Out of the wolf's den and straight into the tiger's lair?

On his first day in the lower realm, he had not even had a hot meal before being attacked three times.

"Young fellow, you have sharp senses."

An old, deep voice sounded behind him, carrying a force that seemed to pierce his soul.

Tang San went rigid and spun around.

Beneath a dead tree not far away stood an old man in a black robe. He was gaunt, his face hidden in the shadow of his hood, with only a strip of pale jaw visible.

He stood perfectly still, yet seemed to have merged with heaven and earth. Had Tang San not looked directly at him, he would never have sensed his presence.

Long Xiaoyao's dark eyes rested on Tang San, complicated thoughts churning beneath them.

That power had resembled the bloodthirsty energy of an Evil Soul Master, yet it had also carried an indescribable, supreme pressure. As though it had been... bestowed by a god?

His gaze fixed on the Blue Silver Grass and Clear Sky Hammer Tang San had held in either hand, and his brow furrowed slightly.

Twin Martial Souls?

And judging by their attributes, both bore an evil nature. They looked more like Twin Evil Martial Souls.

Long Xiaoyao had spent his entire life torn between good and evil.

For Ye Xishui's sake, he had stayed with the Holy Spirit Cult and stained his hands with blood. Yet the justice etched into his bones, along with his youthful friendship with Mu En, had kept him from sinking completely.

It was just like Yan Emperor's assessment of Lufa in Armor Hero.

Neither righteous nor evil—that was Long Xiaoyao.

Now two voices warred within him:

His evil side said the child had extraordinary talent. If he brought the boy back to the Holy Spirit Cult and handed him to Xishui and Zhongli Wu, he was bound to achieve greatness.

His righteous side rang every alarm—there was too much obsession and savagery in the child's eyes. If he did not kill him today, the boy would one day bring calamity upon Douluo Continent.

"Xishui... so be it."

After a long silence, Long Xiaoyao murmured those words. In the end, he chose the person in his heart.

He walked toward Tang San, his voice calm but carrying authority that brooked no refusal. "Boy, come with me."

"Who are you, senior?" Tang San forced down his alarm and feigned composure.

He could sense that the old man before him was unfathomable, more terrifying than any Titled Douluo he had ever met. Could he be... a Limit Douluo?

What was wrong with Douluo Continent? Did every random old man turn out to be a Limit Douluo?!

"Who I am doesn't matter," Long Xiaoyao said with a shake of his head. "What matters is that you must come with me."

"You're that certain?" Tang San forced himself to make the threat, a ruthless glint flashing in his eyes. "Aren't you afraid I'll unleash that power again and drag you down with me?"

"You talk too much." Long Xiaoyao scoffed, paying the threat no mind. "A power that hurts you almost as much as your enemy—how many more times can you use it?"

As his words fell, the full pressure of a Limit Douluo bore down on Tang San.

It felt as though a mountain had crashed onto him. His legs buckled, and he could barely stand.

The next moment, a grip tightened on the back of his neck. Long Xiaoyao lifted him like a chick.

"Mm..."

Tang San's vision went black, and he lost consciousness.

Several days later, deep in the Evil Demon Forest, at the Holy Spirit Cult's headquarters.

Candlelight flickered in the gloomy hall. A faint scent of blood and decay hung in the air.

Zhongli Wu sat on a throne in a black robe threaded with darkgold. His features were delicate. Watching Tang San slowly wake below him, he curved his lips into a gentle smile, though his voice held a bewitching pull.

"Child, you possess Twin Martial Souls, and rare Twin Evil Martial Souls at that," he said slowly, his voice echoing through the hall. "The world curses us as Evil Soul Masters, but they don't understand. We've done nothing wrong. They hunt us down simply because our Martial Souls are different. Only by huddling together for warmth can we survive."

"The Holy Spirit Cult is a home for every shunned Evil Soul Master. Will you take me as your teacher and join us?"

Tang San: "..."

He lay on the cold stone floor, his mind still foggy.

Why did that sound so familiar? Hadn't he said something similar when coaxing people to join the Tang Sect ten thousand years ago?

He opened his mouth but said nothing. Instead, he put on the blank, helpless look of someone who had suffered endless injustice and nodded stiffly.

First, keep them at ease. So what if I join the Holy Spirit Cult?

Once I recover my strength, the entire Holy Spirit Cult will be my pawn.

"Good! Good!" Zhongli Wu laughed heartily and descended from the throne. "Child, what's your name?"

"Tang San."

"Tang San?" Zhongli Wu paused, then smiled. "A fine name. It sounds the same as Sea God Tang San, who ascended to the Divine Realm ten thousand years ago. Quite a coincidence."

"San as in the formal character for three," Tang San corrected him, sneering inwardly.

The same name? I am Tang San himself! No—I'm a Tang San even greater than the original!

"Tang San." Zhongli Wu nodded with satisfaction and patted his shoulder. "From this day forward, you are the Holy Spirit Cult's Blood Silver Saint Son. Only the vice leader and I outrank you. Cultivate diligently, and one day you'll have your place on this continent."

Tang San lowered his eyes, hiding the calculations within them.

A Saint Son? Not a bad title.

After a moment's silence, he raised his head and looked at Zhongli Wu. "Teacher, I have a request."

"Go on."

"I want to go to Shrek Academy."

"Shrek? No!" Zhongli Wu refused without a second thought, his brows knitting tightly. "Your Martial Souls are far too evil. The moment you enter the academy, the Sea God Pavilion Elders will sense them. You'd be walking straight into their net!"

"I can conceal my Martial Souls' aura." Tang San looked up, his tone certain. "No one will see through it. I'm not going to Shrek to die. I'm going to infiltrate it. If the Holy Spirit Cult wants to overturn the balance of Douluo Continent, Shrek is its greatest stumbling block. Once I'm inside, we can strike from within and without. We'll get twice the result with half the effort."

Zhongli Wu looked at him, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Then he clapped and laughed.

"Good! Strike from within and without! That's ambition!"

"Very well, I approve! Once your cultivation has stabilized, you may go to Shrek!"

The candle flames danced, lighting the arrogance deep in the young man's eyes.

A cold smile touched Tang San's lips.

Huo Yuhao. Shrek. Just wait.

I, Tang San, am coming.